Half On, Half Off.
Field Notes of Nobody’s Ghost - 20261101-S10
He set her down first and then followed her in. The man on the deck had the face of someone with questions and the manners of a professional who had been told not to ask them.
The ghost set her down. The man on the deck has questions on his face and asks none of them, while she stands there with nothing on her head as she vigorously dusts off her dress, as if the landing were the easy part. I had three landings of my own on Friday, all of them rough, and one of them is worth the record.
This week I kept running First Stage Separation, the last track of Wave III in the Gateway program that I have been revisiting from the start, and Friday afternoon was the last attempt. Just like earlier in the week, I couldn’t get through it; each time something different knocked me out of the ideal state.
Either I clicked out and spaced out all over the place, or, as on Friday, I heard someone in my office. I thought it was one of my kids, which happens a lot in these exercises. My curiosity got the best of me and ended the session early, because no one was there, and I knew that before I looked.
This track is done. Even depleted, the etheric body had to show me: here, see, quit wasting time. That, or it was a refresher. Either way, I’m moving on to the next wave.
For the second half of the session, I set my stuff down and went for immersive altered states for the rest of the afternoon. I was already very physically tired; the run from that morning was hard for various reasons. I was optimistic but wouldn’t have been upset if nothing happened other than an absent-minded nap.
I ended up projecting three times, back to back, all of them the lower-quality kind of work. I chalked it up to insufficient energy, which is likely right.
The very last pass was the most interesting. I came to on my daybed, where nearly all of my sessions happen. At first I was a little confused because, once again, my vision was partially obscured. Half of what I saw was black, and the other half was my office exactly as it was when I lay down: dark, light poking through the blinds, dim overall, but I could see well where I could see. It was like the time I couldn’t get the face mask off, the exact same situation, as if the mask were half on and half off my face, crooked.
I lay there and felt my left arm up above me, so I thought, okay, I’ll just get up. This proved to be difficult. Nothing was holding me back; my form felt very heavy and awkward to move. I turned to my right, twisted forward, and put my hands on the daybed to hold myself up in a sitting position.
The vision cleared once I was up and observing. I periodically glanced back at my physical body, against my better judgement, since looking at it has ended nearly every projection in the past. This time I wasn’t instantly sucked back in, which was different and immediately noted.
Eventually I stood and managed a step or two away from the daybed. Around there I felt like I had used all my energy just to do that; after glancing around a bit longer, I was quickly pulled back into my physical body.
Just like that, without any break in awareness, I was back with a soft click. The mask was firmly on my head, not sideways, not falling off, and I was comfortable, relaxed even, lying there thinking about what had just happened.
Of course, I was in Locale 1 again, the layer closest to the physical, built one to one (with slight adjustments). As I’ve pointed out before, it’s my belief that all altered states sit on a continuous curve of awareness and reality, and that the specific states we name — Locale 1, Locale 2, the astral, lucid dreaming, physical reality even — have degrees of experience within themselves. Normally I don’t actively exit my body; I’m already out, and the state is freeing and easy. This time, however, Locale 1 was a struggle.
The struggle wasn’t a push or a drive problem. My etheric body felt heavy and hard to move; I always wonder what that’s all about when it happens when the answer is relatively obvious. Energy exhaustion from the morning run is the likely culprit. After all: as above, so below.